Monster From His Past
by filmgurl2008
Summary: While at a market, Peter Parker runs into a figure from his past he would rather never have seen again. Once Wade Wilson realises what this figure has done to his baby boy, well, his Bea and Arthur were never going to stay clean for long. Warnings inside.


**Warnings:** Mentions of child abuse, blood and violence, swearing, slight torture I guess.

* * *

"You do realise I could just get Cap to sign one of those for you anyway, right?" Peter said quietly to his boyfriend, who was currently raising his offer on the signed Captain America card by _another_ hundred dollars.

"No you can't baby boy, these cards are originals, not those shitty ass reprints. It's from back in the day, waaay before he was a popsicle." Wade told him, not once taking his eyes off the card and the other two people bidding on it.

Peter smiled at the ex-mercenary's enthusiasm for something other than weaponry and well. . .killing. Oh and Peter himself. "But it's not an original." He leaned in closer to Wade and placed his hand on his back, pointing to the card in the seller's hand. "Look at the number in the corner; it starts with a nine, all cards after six are reprints. The signature is original though. . ." He trailed off as Wade looked at him with his mouth open wide in shock, before looking at the seller then back to Peter then back to the seller in a comically quick movement.

" _What_?" Wade practically snapped as he narrowed his eyes, trying to see the stupidly small number at the very bottom of the left hand corner. He knew Petey could see it due to his Spidey-sight but that didn't stop him trying to see it too.

"Sorry babe." He chuckled and noticed the way Wade glanced towards him at the rare endearment. And the small tug of lips into a quick pleased smile. "I'll see if Coulson has any doubles you can have that Cap will sign." He said before pulling the side of his boyfriend's hood slightly out of the way to kiss the scarred cheek, smiling amusedly.

"That's great Petey, but first, this asshole is gonna explain why he's trying dupe me and these weirdos-," The merc insulted, pointing at the other bidders. "out of our well-earned dosh." He said agitated as he jabbed a glove covered finger at the seller.

Peter was smiling widely as he watched his boyfriend; he wanted to tell him he was one of those _weirdos_ too as he was the one that had bumped the bid so high in the first place but he kept quiet, instead choosing to shake his head and move away from the stall with a quiet, " _Don't kill anyone, okay_.", and then a laugh at the,

 _"I can't make no promises baby boy."_

He glanced at the bits and bobs on the next few stalls of the market before something caught his eye on one at the opposite side of the walkway. "No way," He smiled widely and hurried over. "how much is this?"

After paying for the surprise he looked around for Wade; he couldn't wait to show his boyfriend what he had found, the older man was going to be ecstatic about it. It would definitely make up for the fake card. And lead to some grateful heavy petting before undoubtedly turning into full blown sexy tim-

"Pete?"

Peter froze mid step at the voice. It was impossible. His eyes scanned the thinning crowd, panicked, for Wade but he couldn't see him. . .and he couldn't move.

"That is you; I'd recognise that face anywhere."

The expression on Peter's face was full of fear, so of course _he_ would recognise it. He was still looking for Wade when his view was blocked. Oh no. No. No. _NO_. His eyes slowly trailed up the body in front of him. Peter was hoping, begging, _praying_ , that it wasn't _him_. . .but he knew it was, and as his brown eyes landed on the man's face, it was confirmed. He sucked in a sharp breath.

"Long time no see." The man smiled. "So, how have you been? You're like what, twenty now? Wow it really has been a long time."

 _Smiled_. The man was actually smiling. Peter didn't know why it shocked him so much, he had always smiled like _that_. That smile that showed those perfectly white teeth. That smile that would look perfectly friendly to most people. That smile that would always be shown right before his name was said. Damn, he hated that smile. And fuck did it scare him more than anything.

It had been a long time. But not fucking long enough. _Eternity_ wouldn't be long enough. He had changed since then, hell, he was Spiderman. He was an Avenger. He was dating Deadpool for crying out loud! And yet. . .he couldn't move. He was his ten year old self all over again.

"C'mon, kid, _speak_." The man demanded, and his smile grew as Peter flinched at the tone. He stepped closer, almost into the kid's personal space. Again, his smile grew when the kid didn't move.

"Yo, there you are!" Wade said loudly, stepping in next to Peter, a smile beaming down at his boyfriend but when the kid didn't even acknowledge him he frowned, confused. And then finally noticed the man that was far too close to his Spider for his liking. But then again he didn't like anyone close to Peter. He had a possessive streak. . .especially when it came to his Petey.

He shook his head mentally; for all he knew this man was someone important to Peter, not just a random stranger, so he had to be nice. Though he was getting a very odd vibe from the man, which said something seen as he himself was actually _Deadpool_. Not someone who was what would be called _normal_.

"So who's your friend, baby boy?" Wade asked and noticed the way his Petey jerked as if he had been smacked. He frowned deeply, worried.

Finally, Wade was next to him. But it wasn't making him feel better, calmer, like it normally would. Peter was too scared. He needed Wade to hold him. That always calmed him down. . .always made things better.

"I'm Skip; an old friend of Pete's." The man said, holding his hand out. "You must be a new friend."

The merc huffed a laugh before taking hold of Skip's hand in a quick, jerky shake. "Wade." He watched the man's eyes roam over him, settling on his scared face. He could see it in those steely grey eyes, Skip thought he was better than him. . .better looking, better dressed, better framed, better for Peter. Wade didn't like this douchbag, and not just because he was wrong. Wade might be an asshole –a very fucking dangerous asshole-, but there wasn't anybody better suited for Petey than Wade himself. "Nice t' meet y' but we better get going." He said with his best fake smile.

He knew the guy could tell it was fake, just as he could tell Skip's return smile was also fake. What was this guy's deal?

"Yeah nice to meet you too."

"Petey, you ready to go?" Wade asked warily; his baby boy hadn't said anything or even moved. He couldn't remember ever seeing him like this. Shit, he was so pale too. What the fuck was that about? He noticed the kid's hand was fisted in the little plastic bag he was holding, his skin a sickly pale colour, his hair was damp at his temples and his eyes. . .holy fuck, his eyes were. . .they. . .shit. . .his eyes looked glazed over, soulless. . .dead.

His teeth ground together, his jaw clenching tight. He didn't know what was wrong but he had to get Peter home. Away from here, from whatever was wrong.

Wade covered Peter's hand –that was clinging to the bag- with his own and pulled gently, making him stumble back a step. "C'mon baby boy, we gotta go." He thought he'd successfully broken Peter from his state until he saw those big eyes behind his glasses; they were still glazed and not even looking at him. What the fuck was going on?

He saw Skip suddenly take hold of Peter's other wrist, fingers gripping too tightly for his liking at the grey hoodie sleeve. And then the fucker had the cheek to lean in close. Wade didn't know if it was his anger or shock that made him stand still, just watching.

Peter shivered as Skip leaned in close, his body almost pressed right against his own and the man's lips ghosting over his ear. He could feel those lips smiling. He felt sick.

"Is he as good as me, pretty boy?"

Wade couldn't hear what the man was saying, but he heard the sharp shaky breath Peter sucked in, his body going tense and his eyes widening. Who the hell was this guy? Why did he think it was okay to get so close to someone who wasn't his? What the fuck had he said? Why-?

He was snapped out his jealousy when he suddenly felt his boot squelch. He looked down and frowned, confused; there was a slight puddle forming around his foot that was pressed against Peter's sneaker. What the fuck? He looked up slightly, the jeans his baby boy was wearing now had a dark streak, he followed the streak up the leg and it took him longer than it should to realise what it was. The jeans covering his baby boy's crotch were soaked. Peter had peed himself. Anger and panic shot through him. "Petey, what's wrong!?"

At the same time, Skip stepped back from Peter. "Tut, I thought you'd stopped doing that, Pete. It's a bad thing, remember. You'll be punished for it."

"What the fuck did you say?" Wade spat. Skip kept his eyes on Peter. And all of a sudden things seemed to click into place. No. _NO._ He let go of his Spider's hand and used it to grab the bastard's throat. Lifting him up from his feet, taking a few steps forward and slamming him against the lamp post between two of the many stalls, not caring how people looked at them and moved away making noises. "I said _what_. _The fuck_. _Did you_. _Say_!?" He snarled between gritted teeth, tightening his grip on the neck in his hand.

"All I. . .said was that. . .I taught him better. . .than that. . ." Skip choked out, a slight smirk on his lips.

Taught? _Taught_!? His hand tightened; he could feel the muscles squeezing together. "You fucking-," He stopped when he felt the long fingered hand clutch at his upper arm. It was shaking.

"Wade," Peter said quietly, his voice croaky –as if he was afraid to speak. "please, let's just go."

"But he-," Wade pulled Skip away from the lamp post only to slam him into it again; noticing how the metal tremored with the action. "he _hurt_ you."

Peter flinched at the words. He looked around to see if people had also heard; a few people that had decided to stay and watch -the ones closest to them- were now looking at Peter with a mixture of curiosity and pity. He ducked his head quickly, tightening his shaky grip on Wade's arm. " _Please_. J-just take me home. Please Wade."

Wade glanced down at his baby boy; he could see he was on the verge of crying and his drip white skin looked almost grey at this point, he looked so ill. It made his blood boil that someone could do that to him. . .and that Wade couldn't just kill the bastard. He reluctantly dropped said bastard onto the floor before crouching down in front of him. The merc waited for Skip to look at him –an annoyed but somehow smug grin on his face- before grabbing roughly at his jaw and slamming his head back against the lamp post. "If you _ever_ so much as even _think_ about Peter again, I'll kill you. So imagine what I'll do if you have the nerve to come near him or even say his name." He stood up and swung his foot, putting all his strength into kicking the bastard in the balls.

Skip screamed out, cupped himself and fell to the side.

Peter hadn't taken his eyes off Wade, not daring to look at Skip. He watched as Wade moved to stand in front of him before cupping his cheek with the leather covered hand. He leaned into the touch and closed his eyes, biting his lip, to try and stop the flood of tears he felt coming.

Before he could even think, he was lifted from the ground and instinctively wrapped his arms around the merc's neck and legs around his waist. He buried his face into Wade's neck as he started walking, carrying Peter as if he was still the child that had needed rescuing all those years ago.

XXXXXX

Wade turned the taps off and stood up from the side of the bath where he still had Peter wrapped around him. He would have thought the kid had fallen asleep if he didn't keep hearing the shaky breaths he kept letting out, trying to stop himself from crying.

He didn't know how the kid hadn't been full on beefing by now, hell, Wade felt like crying after realising what that bastard must have done to his baby boy. It made him beyond angry, but it hurt him like nothing else ever had. He sometimes forgot that Peter hadn't always been Spiderman, hadn't always been so strong, so it was hard imagining a time when he could be hurt. . .couldn't defend himself. . .couldn't stop-. . .

The merc gently pulled Peter's legs from around his waist and then did the same with those long arms around his neck. Slowly he started undoing the kid's hoodie and shucking it from his shoulders. ". . .I'm just gonna undress you, okay Petey? Get you in the bath and clean you up okay?"

Peter nodded slowly. He stood still as Wade dropped his hoodie to the floor before carefully lifting the bottom of his t-shirt up with his gloved hand –the opposite one he had used to touch his cheek with earlier-no. He started breathing in quickly. No. No. He touched-no. Shit. "No, don't-," He screeched out and started pulling away, panicked.

The merc kept hold of Peter's shirt. "Hey, hey, Petey it's me. It's only me. I'm not going to hurt you. I'd _never_ hurt you, y' know that." He said, trying to calm the kid down. He couldn't bear the thought of Peter –his baby boy, his Spidey- thinking he was going to hurt him. . .especially like that.

"Not. . .that. . ." Peter gasped out between quick deep breaths. He pushed at Wade, making the scarred man stumble a step back and himself slam against the bathroom wall between the sink and the door. "He-he-. . .he touched. . .glove. He-he-he-he-he-," He slid down the wall to the floor, his legs pulled up against his body.

It took Wade a moment to realise what his Spider was trying to say, but he got it in the end; Skip had touched Wade's glove when they shook hands. He didn't want to be touched by something that had touched that bastard. Which was understandable. He ripped both gloves off and threw them in the trash can. He would burn them later.

He crouched down and looked at Peter, the tears were finally flowing. It broke his heart to see the kid pulled in on himself, so distressed.

"I. . .I can't-," Peter cried, raking one hand through his hair. He couldn't think, didn't want to. He just wanted to cling to Wade and forget about the entire day. "I'm supposed to be strong now. . .I'm not weak. . .I-I-I-. . .he's not supposed t-t-to be able to. . .not anymore. . .Wade I. . ." He bit his lip roughly before letting out a broken sob. "all he did-. . .was get close and I p-pissed myself Wade. . .I-I-I-," He flopped his head down onto his knees, letting the tears free as he sobbed; his breathing deep and somehow shallow at the same time and his body shaking.

Wade just stared at Peter, he didn't know what to do. How was he supposed to help? How was he supposed to make _this_ better? How-, oh, he knew how. "I'm gonna kill him." He stood up and stepped towards the door, reaching for the handle. . .but stopped when the kid's hand curled around his wrist.

"Don't. It's wrong." Peter told him.

He should have known Peter wouldn't like his solution, he never agreed with killing. He wanted to tell the kid how killing Skip was for the best, that he would make it as painful as possible and that he knew it wouldn't remove what that bastard had done to him but he wouldn't have to worry about Skip coming back again because when Deadpool was finished with him, there would be nothing left.

But he couldn't. He didn't want to argue with Peter and risk upsetting him more. So he knelt down in front of the Spider and just looked at him, their eyes locking together. Peter's big brown eyes weren't as glazed over as before but definitely weren't as alive as usual either. "Let's get you in the bath."

After Wade had undressed Peter and helped him into the tub, he had felt so helpless as the kid had started to cry, closing in on himself again. So Wade had kicked his boots off and climbed in –still fully clothed- behind Peter and just wrapped his arms around his shaking frame. He couldn't lose the kid. He couldn't, no, _wouldn't_ let his baby boy close himself off from everything. . .especially not him. He had smiled softly, sadly, as Peter had leaned back against him. . .still crying.

They had stayed huddled together until the water turned too cold. Wade had then got them out of the bath, drying and redressing Peter before taking him to the bedroom, laying him on the bed before quickly stripping off and climbing into a pair of joggers.

So now he was laid next to Peter, not quite sure what to do or say. Wade couldn't stop looking at the kid; he still looked ill. He wanted to take the hurt away, but how the hell did he do that? But he didn't have time to think about it much as Peter turned on his side to face Wade.

The kid took hold of Wade's hand and moved it onto his pillow, staring at it intently. He didn't dare look at his boyfriend's face. He was scared of what he would see there. ". . .H-h-he was. . .S-S-S-S-Skip he-," He paused, swallowing the bile that rose at the back of his throat. "he was the cool teen n-next door. . .w-when I was a kid."

"Petey, you don't have to do this." Wade told him softly, but the kid just shook his head. He hated how Peter wouldn't look at him.

"He was nice t-to me. . .he was the first person I could talk to about s-science-y stuff. . .he didn't p-pick on me. . ." Peter swallowed thickly. "He was my friend." Wade's hand tightened around his, and he managed to let out a somewhat relaxed breath. "One night his parents were out of town a-a-and I got to stay over. . ."

Wade gripped even tighter at Peter's hand, involuntarily, he wasn't sure if he was trying to comfort the kid or if it was due to the anger he felt rising again, because he knew what was coming. He could hear the kid's breathing grown deep and ragged.

"H-he said w-we could play. . .a-a-a game. W-when he started I-I-I-I told him to _stop_ , but he didn't and I. . .I-I-I-I couldn't make h-him. I w-wasn't s-s-strong enough. Wade, I-I-I c-c-couldn't stop him-," He burst into tears and stopped talking when Wade pulled him into a tight hug. If he was _normal_ , he was sure he wouldn't be able to breath properly with how tight the merc was holding him.

After a while Peter's crying turned into quiet sobs and Wade just held him tighter as he spoke. "You were just a kid Petey, he was older, of course you weren't strong enough to physically stop him. Everything he-he did," He tightened his grip on the thin body. "was _his_ fault, not _yours_. Do you hear me, baby boy? None of it was your fault."

The tears came back with a vengeance, streaming down his face and soaking the older man's chest. "I-I know. . .I used to think i-it was. I u-used to blame m-m-myself. B-b-but I know it isn't, I-," Peter sucked in a slow shaky breath and swallowed thickly.

"Wait, your Aunt and Uncle told you it wasn't your fault." It wasn't an accusation; Wade knew there was no way May or Ben would have let Peter think he was to blame. He hadn't had the chance to meet the kid's uncle but he knew he was a good man, a man that wouldn't have let some little bastard hurt his nephew –though Wade was sure Ben wouldn't have tried to kill Skip like he wanted to, but he was sure no man would let the bastard go unscathed. "They didn't go to the police?"

He felt Peter tense against him. Oh no.

"I. . .I didn't tell them." Peter admitted. "I didn't want them to know."

"Wha-, why?"

"I. . .I guess I. . .didn't want to d-disappoint them. . ." The kid whispered.

"Oh baby boy." Wade buried his face into the Peter's unruly brown hair and just held him close. "No one is ever going to hurt you again, not ever. I won't let-,"

"Wade," Peter interrupted, closing his eyes. "don't kill him, okay?"

"What?" The mercenary practically gasped out.

"Please babe," Peter whispered, his lips brushing against the scars on the older man's chest. He knew how Wade couldn't usually resist when he used endearments. So yeah, he knew he was playing dirty, but he didn't want Wade to leave him and do something stupid. "just stay here with me. . . _please_."

Wade sighed, burying his face deeper into the kid's hair. "Okay, baby boy, whatever you want."

XXXXXX

It was two weeks later when Wade was on his way home from a mission. . .when he saw something that had his blood boiling to erupting volcano status.

Standing on the fire escape of the building opposite his crappy apartment he could see down the alley and across the road. And stood next to the lamp post that was dimly lighting the darkening street, was that bastard: Skip.

An animalistic growl escaped his lips.

And the next thing he knew, he was standing in one of his many safe houses with Skip tied to a chair in the middle of the living room.

He looked over the man; blond hair that was usually styled, expensive suit, decent enough face –of course it didn't compare to Wade's pre-Freddy-Krueger look. . .though knowing what the fucker liked to do with young boys, it didn't compare to his post-Freddy-Krueger look either. He had had Weasel look into the man's past –fearing if he did it personally, he would hunt him down without a second thought-, turned out he had lived next to the Parkers for a few years, while he had been around eighteen and. . .Petey had been only ten. He had had to tune out for a while at hearing that until Weasel made a point of saying that he always lived around school areas but didn't have any trouble with the police –but both Weasel and Wade knew a man like Skip would have connections to all sorts of people and could make _problems_ disappear.

Skip started shaking.

Good, the bastard was regaining consciousness again. "So, here we are _Skip_. Huh, what a stupid white ass name." He kicked the man's foot harshly, making him jump, his head snapping up in attention. Wade, no Deadpool, looked over the man's bloodied and quickly bruising face. "Not so pretty now are y'?"

"W-w-what? W-who are you?" Skpi stuttered, clearly scared. "I have money. I can pay you whatever you want. Just don't hurt me."

Deadpool leaned forward, his face in front of Skip's. "After what you did, do you really think you could get off that easily?"

"W-what? What're you talking about? Who are you!?"

Deadpool lifted his hand and ripped his mask off; revealing his face and the dark, murderous expression on it.

"You. . .you're the guy with Pete-," Skip was quickly shut up as Deadpool slammed the butt of his gun into his face, smashing a couple of perfect teeth.

"What did I say about saying his name?" He stood up straight, pointing the gun at the man's knee. " _What_ did I say about going near him!?" Deadpool pulled the trigger, blowing Skip's knee cap to shreds. "You think you could hurt him again!?"

"I never hurt him. He was _mine_." The man gasped out.

Deadpool let out an angry noise that even he didn't recognise before firing the gun at Skip's shoulder, simultaneously pulling one of his many knifes out and slamming it into the left thigh. Normally he would reveal in the screams, but this wasn't for him, hell, it wasn't even for Petey –after all, he asked him not to kill the bastard-. . .it was to protect Peter, protect what was his, protect how ever many others the bastard had hurt.

"Pl-please, don't. Stop." Skip begged, his breathing was laboured.

Deadpool knew it wasn't going to be long before the man lost consciousness again. "Is that what Peter said? When you'd hurt him and he'd beg you to stop, are those the words he used?" His voice was getting darker; a mix of disgust, hate, venom, even fear, laced every word.

"I didn't hurt him. He was mine. That's what you do when someone's yours!" Skip practically shouted.

"Stop saying that!" Deadpool roared, pulling the knife that was wedged in the man's thigh down, leaving a deep gash in its wake all the way till the metal crunched against the bone of his remaining knee cap. "He wasn't yours! He was a child, you sick fuck!"

"He was mine; I loved him and he loved me!" Skip screamed.

Deadpool didn't know where the man's sudden burst of energy came from and he didn't care. It wasn't going to last long, before he wasn't going to be alive much longer. . .especially spouting that sick shit he was right now. He felt sick as the words sunk in: the bastard actually believed Peter had. . .had. . .had _loved him_. Oh hell no. He grabbed one of his katanas from his back and held it to the man's long throat, not missing how the blood from his face had flooded down over it.

"And the others you hurt, did you _love_ them too?"

Skip managed a nod before speaking, smiling softly, "Y-yes, but none like him. Pete was always my favourite, always my pretty boy."

Deadpool ground his teeth together so hard he could feel the bone crunching. He pressed his gun into the gaping hole in the man's shoulder, twisting it harshly. Skip scream whimpered. "How long did you hurt him for?" He ground out. He didn't know why but he had to know and he sure as hell wasn't going to ask Peter.

"I _loved_ him for two years, only stopped because they moved him away." Skip muttered.

His blood volcano finally spilled over. If the Parker's hadn't have moved, the bastard could have still been hurting the kid. He dropped his gun and swung his katana down, slicing Skip's right arm off in one swoop. Now that was a scream he enjoyed.

After a few moments Skip finally stopped screaming and was panting hard, sobbing and crying. "I know you're. . .g-gonna. . .kill m-me. . ."

"What gave that away, moron?" He wasn't sure if his intention had been to kill Skip the entire time –of course he wanted to but he had said he wouldn't- or if he was just going to hurt and scare the man. . but with every word that left those twisted lips, he knew he had no other option but to kill him. "So I'll let you choose, extremely painful death. . .or extremely painful death."

Skip laughed.

"What the fuck you laughing at?"

Skip kept laughing for a moment before settling down to a chuckle as he laughed. "Kill me-all you want-but r-remember this. . . _I had him first_." The chuckle rose to a somewhat manic laughter.

Deadpool saw red. He had never been one to say some shitty mist had fogged him and he didn't know what he was doing. . .not even when he lost his shit; he was still in control. But not this time. He really did see red.

XXXXXX

Deadpool slipped in through the window quietly, ripping his suite off quickly.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been but he knew Peter had been expecting him back at sundown, the sun was just starting to rise.

The red mist had finally lifted and he could honestly say he had never killed someone so. . .so. . .well, he didn't even know the right fucking word. By the time he had finished with Skip, there hadn't been a body left. . .it had literally been mush, blood splashed across every wall and tiny shards of bone scattered around the room. You wouldn't have even be able to tell it had once been a human.

He didn't regret it. He had done what was needed.

He did regret that he was going to have to lie to Petey though. But he couldn't tell him. He just couldn't.

"Wade?"

The merc heard the soft voice come from the bedroom. Quickly, he pulled on the jog pants that were hanging over the crappy breakfast bar. And as their bedroom door opened he kicked his suit under the bar. "Hey, baby boy, what you doing up?"

"Waiting for you."

Wade looked over Peter; the kid's hair was messier than usual, meaning he had probably been asleep at some point, and his glasses sat cutely wonkily on his nose while the bags under his big brown eyes worried the merc; he knew his Spider hadn't been sleeping well. He looked down, staring at the familiar red hoodie the kid was wearing: it was Wade's. Peter had been wearing it for the last two weeks.

His eyes wandered down those long pale legs before the little bag caught his eyes. He tilted his head to the side, curiously. "What's that baby boy?"

Peter looked down at the bag before back at the merc. "I got this for you, at the market that da-well, the other week. I forgot about it." He said quietly, the whole time his eyes had been slowly moving down his boyfriend's half naked body until they landed on the mostly hidden suit. There was blood on it. _Fresh blood_. His eyes stayed fixed on the suit, but he could see Wade notice what he was looking at.

Wade stuttered forward, somehow slow and fast, stopping a few feet from the kid. "Petey, I can ex-,"

"Here." Peter snapped his eyes from the suit and opened the plastic bag, holding it open to Wade. "It's an original. One of the ones actually printed during world war II."

The merc pulled the comic out of the bag; it was one of the comics about Captain America's adventures before he actually started fighting the real bad guys. "Whoa," Was all Wade could muster, staring in awe at the book.

"It wasn't cheap either, though not as much as you were going to pay for that fake ass card. . .I guess the guy selling it didn't realise how much it was worth."

"And you got it for me?"

"Of course I did, I love you Wade."

That snapped Wade's attention from the book and up to his boyfriend. The serious look on Petey's face showed he didn't mean because he had gotten him the comic. He felt a wave of guilt and relief at those four words. "You know I love you too, right Petey? More than anything." He whispered stepping into the kid's personal space.

Peter looked up at Wade, stepping up onto the tips of his toes as he clutched at the scarred man's neck. Tilting his head backwards to just the right angle to lock eyes. "I know. I know there's nothing you wouldn't do for me. _I love you_." Pressing his lips to his boyfriend's scarred ones, he felt a burden lift from him, one he hadn't realised he still had until two weeks ago.

They clung together, even as Wade gently placed the comic book on the little draw to their right, before slowly backing into the bedroom and closing the door with his foot.

* * *

Thanks for reading!

Sorry if any spelling etc mistakes.

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